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by lsaacLahey



Series: newtmas one shots [2]
Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Suicidal Intentions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 05:03:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3637740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lsaacLahey/pseuds/lsaacLahey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Newt is like sunshine to him, radiating this kind of warmth that causes bubbles in his stomach that burst in his chest sending waves of security and an intoxicating ecstasy straight to his head. A smile that looks like it’s hiding the stars behind his teeth, the glow printed in Thomas’s brain like the smudges you get behind your eyes from staring at the sun for too long.</p>
            </blockquote>





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**Author's Note:**

> first work for the maze runner ,,, sorry mom

 Thomas never expected his heart to drop so drastically. Surely the boy in front of him couldn’t of been the co-leader he’d grown to know in the past few days.

It was almost funny how weird that sounded, he’d only been in the glade for two days and it’s already felt like he’s been there for years, growing accustom to the inner workings and slang, knowing the routines and rules although he didn’t exactly follow them.The daunting realization that things could change so fast in such a small amount of time was chilling, sharp bouts of anxiety threatening to bust through his sternum; like a needle to a balloon.

Sweat matted sandy blondish hair cascading over fair, dirt streaked skin, sunlight through whiskey eyes when the light hit at just the right angle, filled with moisture sitting on top of tear streaked cheeks; Newt was a mess.

The taller boy’s eyes lock on Thomas, briefly filled with nearly ominous hatred, but relax into shame when rough, bony fingers cover the pale pink of thin trembling lips as his gaze drops to the forest floor beneath the two. Thomas almost expects Newt to turn away and run. Quickly he reevaluates the possibility, there’s nowhere to run, and in the time he’s gotten to know the other, that kind of behaviour was extremely uncharacteristic.

Nervously the words slip out slow and deliberate, “Newt?” The blond just tenses, doesn’t make eye contact, nor does he move, “Are you alright?” The taller begins shaking, Thomas expects an anger outburst, a hostile threat to leave, but instead all he gets is a whimper, a crack of words that were unable to form.

Unsure what to do, unsure of boundaries, unsure of the hostile glare Newt had sent him that shot a pain of something uneasy to the pit of his gut, he slowly approaches the blond. He stands there, only a few feet away not understanding the situation fully but wanting to wipe the upsetting sight of his friend breaking into a million fragile pieces in front of him, whether the jagged bits are anger, deep sadness, sorrow, frustration, Thomas wants to put them back together.

He hesitantly places a feather light hand on the taller’s shoulder, testing the water, bracing for a sudden chill just like the ocean when it rains, but instead he gets lukewarm when Newt collapses into his chest, sobs breaking through a chocked up throat, it’s bitter sweet when Thomas wraps his arms around the blond, hopefully transmitting a sense of stability.

Newt is like sunshine to him, radiating this kind of warmth that causes bubbles in his stomach that burst in his chest sending waves of security and an intoxicating ecstasy straight to his head. A smile that looks like it’s hiding the stars behind his teeth, the glow printed in Thomas’s brain like the smudges you get behind your eyes from staring at the sun for too long. How he longed for that smile in this moment, doesn’t care if it’s painted or held in place by fragile strings.

"I-I don’t get it," the accented voice is muffled through Thomas’s sweat damped shirt, "What did I do?" His voice harbours anger, "What did I do to deserve this?"

Thomas doesn’t need to ask to know exactly what Newt is talking about.

"I don’t know if it’s the fact I can’t remember, or if it’s the fact I get this bloody lingering feeling that I don’t want to know, that haunts the most."

And Thomas understands completely.

"These walls are so bloody fuckin’ suffocating, Tommy,"

So much that it crushes any fragments of hope that take refuge inside the taken part of your memory.

"It makes it so buggin’ hard to keep trying, so bloody hard to keep surviving." Newt pulls away from Thomas’s chest, "I was going to off myself, why couldn’t I do it?"

Thomas’s heart seizes and a sickening dose of dread rolls in his stomach as Newt drops the same knife he’d used to teach the other how to chop fire wood less than 24 hours ago. Shock turns into anger as he watches fresh tears flow down reddened cheeks. Who ever had put them here was going to pay. He was determined to get out of here, with Newt, with Chuck, With everyone else.

"Newt, listen to me alright?" Thomas says confidently, "We’re going to get out of here."

"Then what?" An empty laugh echoes in Thomas’s ears as Newt moves a little too close to his face, "We just go back to our old lives, to where we once lived? We go meet our bloody parents and act like nothing happened? Don’t you understand they’ve took that from us! We don’t exist outside! There’s nowhere to go! We have no home!"

It’s sudden, hard and impulsive as Thomas presses his lips against Newt’s, rough lips moulding into each other, as they both cling onto the last spec of hope that could possibly exist in the hallow spaces in the walls of their hearts. Messy, teeth clacking, desperately searching for something, anything to hold onto. It’s ridiculous, he knows, but Thomas wishes he could just melt into the brown gold speckled eyes that gave him the reassurance when he first arrived. The smooth voice that made him laugh, gave him a sense of security, and of course, the sunshine feeling like alcohol in the pit of his gut and stellar smile. He wanted to melt into Newt.

He lightly rests his arms on Newt’s waist, he isn’t sure if what he’s doing is right, although he’s just going off instinct and a very distant memory of doing this before. Newt fingers have firm grip on Thomas’s shoulders, like they could rip off the skin to the bone if they tried hard enough. An anchor that brings the blond back to the ground, away from the dark corners of his mind.

They pull away, foreheads still touching, small sharp puffs of breath blossoming between the two lightly dusting each other’s lips like they never pulled away. A feeling of recently formed sense of stability visibly breaks through the walls Newt had been so used to keeping up, the falsity of hope becomes reality as Thomas kisses the remaining bit of tears, staining Newt’s cheeks with something comforting and pleasant, butterfly kisses delicately placed.

 _"Home doesn’t always have to be a place."_ Thomas mumbles against sunshine dusted skin.


End file.
